


I'll Find the Words

by voidfoxstarlight



Series: Inside A Whale [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Canon Atypical Discussions of Emotions, Coming Out, Cottage Fic, Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Genderqueer Character, Getting Together, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Jonathan Sims, Other, Post MAG159 Pre MAG160, Sex Repulsed Jonathan Sims, Trans Jonathan Sims, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, author is ace and genderqueer, brief mentions of martins mum being transphobic and generally unpleasant, jons afraid martins going to react badly to his asexuality but theres no actual aphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24481954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidfoxstarlight/pseuds/voidfoxstarlight
Summary: Somehow maybe now I'll find the words to sayNever thought I'd see the day— Brian David Gilbert, "See The Day"In a cottage in Scotland, they finally get to talk.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Series: Inside A Whale [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772746
Comments: 26
Kudos: 358





	I'll Find the Words

Jon wakes slowly, the dredges of some re-lived statement slipping out of his mind. His face is half-smushed in his pillow, but through his free eye he can see Martin across the bed, still asleep. Sunlight filters in through the lacey curtains and draws patterns across the quilt and their hands, which rest only inches away from each other.

Following the slow rise and fall of Martin’s chest almost lulls Jon back to sleep. For the first time in too long, he takes a moment to just lay there and… breathe; to feel his lungs contracting and expanding, his body pressing into the mattress. He closes his eyes and his eyelashes brush against the pillow. He doesn’t have anywhere to be. He doesn’t have anything to do. He can just exist.

A shift of the fabric makes him open his eyes again. Martin is awake now, watching him. Jon watches back. Neither of them says a word.

 _I really loved you, you know?_ Loved, past tense—but everything is past tense in the Lonely. It was once-there-was-someone-or-something-but-now-it-is-gone-and-I-am-on-my-own. It still lingers, still hovers on the edge of Martin’s being. His hair is shock-white where the Lonely leeched all the colour from it.

Jon’s limbs are heavy from sleep, so his movements are clumsy when he reaches out and puts one hand in Martin’s hair. Martin sucks in a breath, but his expression doesn’t change, nor does he ask Jon to stop, so Jon doesn’t move. Martin’s hair is soft as candyfloss, soft as a cloud.

“I love you,” Jon says, pleasantly surprised when his voice doesn’t tremble.

Martin’s eyes go wide like saucers. In a voice as steady as Jon’s and soft as his hair, he says, “I love you, too, Jon.” He puts his own hand on top of Jon’s and tugs it down to press a kiss to his open palm. “I love you,” he whispers again, so quietly this time that Jon’s not even sure he was meant to hear it.

Jon twists his hand in Martin’s so he can twine their fingers together. “Would you like breakfast? We can make pancakes.”

Martin squeezes his hand. “Yeah. Yeah, breakfast sounds great.”

* * *

Daisy doesn’t have any syrup, so they make do with butter and honey on their pancakes instead. 

Martin fixes them both tea. If he notices Jon watching him while he does so, he doesn’t say anything about it. Jon accepts his cup with a murmured thanks.

The table is a tiny thing, and it’s no difficulty at all for Martin to link his left hand with Jon’s across it.

When he finishes eating, Jon pushes his plate away. “I… I’ve been thinking. About something Peter Lukas said.”

Martin’s expression tightens, but he nods for Jon to continue.

“He said we don’t know each other very well. And I… it’s true, I think. At least for me.” He focuses on a point just to the left of Martin’s face. “But I would like to know you. I want to know everything about you—not because of the Eye, just—just for me. And for you.”

Martin’s breath hitches. “I want to know everything about you, too.”

They leave the dishes in the sink and curl up on the couch, facing each other, never unclasping their hands.

“What do you want to know?”

Jon considers. “Is there anything you want me to know first?”

Martin bites his lip and looks to the side. “I’m trans.”

Without thinking, Jon says, “Oh, I know.”

Martin turns sharply back to look at him. “What? How?”

“Um. When I caught you in your pants when you were staying at the Archives? You didn’t have a shirt on and you were wearing your binder.”

Martin exhales and runs and a hand through his hair. “I thought you thought it was a tank top.”

“I did, at first. But it had the trans flag colours on it, and I recognised them. I didn’t want to do anything rude or—or transphobic, so I did a little research after that, and that’s when I figured out it was a binder.” Jon resists the urge to stick his hand in his mouth and chew on his nails. “I, ah, I’m trans too? Um, genderqueer.”

“Oh! What are your pronouns?”

“He/him, I think.”

Martin sighs, relieved. “That’s good. I hate to think I’d been misgendering you. He/him for me, as well.”

“When did… when did you start figuring it out?”

“Around fifteen or sixteen? I couldn’t really start transitioning until I was an adult. Mum was… not supportive.” He looks away. “I think I must have looked too much like my dad.”

Jon rubs his thumb over the back of Martin’s hand. 

“I got top surgery last year, after she died. I… I was scared I wouldn’t like how it would look, after—after I realised how much it would make me look like him? I didn’t want to have that association every time I looked in the mirror. But I decided to go through with it, and I don’t think it makes me look like him. It just makes me look like me.”

“You look lovely, Martin,” Jon tells him sincerely, and Martin flushes to the tips of his ears.

“What about you? When did you figure it out?”

Jon recognises the attempt to divert his attention for what it is, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Just a couple years ago, actually. I came across the term while I was researching after I caught you in your binder, but I didn’t really… connect it to the way I felt until later. I also found another word?” This time, he does bring his thumb up to his mouth to chew on his nail. “Asexual.”

Martin nods and squeezes his hand.

“It means… not having sexual attraction. Which isn’t the same as romantic attraction, um, they’re separate things. So someone could be asexual and biromantic, which is like bisexual except romantic instead of sexual. It’s—um—” Jon gives up on the nail and just bites down on his whole thumb. “It’s—some aces—that’s shorthand for asexual—some of them like sex? But some—they just—it’s not—”

“Jon.”

Jon shuts up.

“Are you asexual?”

He nods slowly.

“And you don’t like sex?”

He nods again without meeting Martin’s eyes. “I don’t even like kissing on the mouth.”

Martin tugs Jon’s hand away from his mouth and holds it with his own, so they’re holding hands on both sides. “Hey. If you don’t want to have sex, or kiss me, I’m not going to make you. I didn’t fall in love with you because I thought the sex would be good.”

“But you like sex.”

“I—well, yeah. Probably. But—”

Jon looks up. “Probably?”

“I’ve never actually… done it? I never exactly had a lot of time, between working and caring for my mum. I’ve never even had a boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“My point is, I’ve gone my entire life without having sex. I can go the rest of it, too. _Especially_ if it means I get to be with you.”

“Oh.” His eyes start to sting. “Um.” He pulls one of his hands free of Martin’s to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks.

“Do you want a hug?” Martin asks gently, opening his arms a bit.

Jon nods and falls into them without a second thought. He’s not a loud crier, but he muffles the little sounds he does make in Martin’s neck. Martin rubs Jon’s back and rocks them a little, making quiet, comforting shushing sounds.

The strong wave of emotion peters out eventually, but Jon doesn’t move from Martin’s hold. 

“You okay?” Martin murmurs.

Jon nods. “Thank you.”

Martin giggles a bit. “We really just started out with the the heaviest stuff, didn’t we?”

Jon laughs and holds Martin tighter. “Should I have asked for your favourite colour instead?”

“It’s brown. Like your eyes.”

Jon splutters and retaliates with, “Mine’s pink. Like you used to dye your hair,” and grins when Martin’s cheeks colour to match.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pride!


End file.
